I hope you're ready.


Under Normal Conditions

Act 5

5.1

It wasn't like he was having a hard day. No, with the ten new residents pestering him with questions about the correct dosage of Tylenol to give a patient eight times a minute, a thoroughly destroyed training room courtesy of his runaway son who had now, since it was officially 2 am, been out of the human world for seventeen days, and a ringing in his head that just wouldn't stop, Ryuken would not say he was having a hard day.

He was having a shit month. One where each day topped the last with new hellish feats.

Ryuken sat at his desk. He'd told the residents to annoy another doctor with their pointless questions for the next hour, hoping to steal that time to nap on the couch in the corner of his office. But, after accidentally crashing on his desk chair, he doubted he would ever get up again.

But maybe he should get up for some Tylenol. How long ago did he take his last dose? Those damn residents were getting to him. Maybe he'd take something stronger since that ringing in his head was just getting more and more intense. He leaned his head in his hands.

His head dropped out of his hands as he jerked awake. The ringing was worse - no, that was his phone. His phone which was buried somewhere on top of his desk. His desk which was covered with papers, folders, and possibly his lunch from last week - but he was not certain, and he really hoped someone had thrown it away - the lunch, though it would be nice if the phone was gone, too.

In a grand gesture of annoyance, Ryuken swept the first two layers of papers off his desk. There it was, next to his week-old sandwich. He frowned at it, the phone, after seeing who was calling.

He answered anyway, "this better be good, Urahara."

"It's about your son," Kisuke's voice clearly cut through the speaker. The tone wasn't as chipper as usual, something Ryuken's tired ears grateful for. He couldn't take the shopkeeper's voice drilling through his brain right now.

"Be quick," Ryuken sniped, "I don't have all day." There was an aggravatingly long pause on the other line. "Do you need me to come pick him up later today? A text would have sufficed. Do not call me, Urahara. I would have refrained from giving you my number, but I was foolish enough to believe you wouldn't misuse it." Ryuken ended the call and set his phone back down with more force than necessary.

His phone rang again, Kisuke's name popping up. He hung up after the first ring.

His phone dinged. Rolling his eyes, he opened it and read the new message - this one from Ishiin.

Are you at the hospital or your house?

If he didn't respond, the idiot would call the hospital and force them to patch him through under the guise of a medical emergency. He gave in and texted back:

That's none of your business, Kurosaki. I'll pick up Uryu when he gets into the human world or he can walk home. Though, I doubt he'll go there willingly. It'd be easier if you just sent him to his apartment. Or I can pay Urahara for the use of a room in the shoten; given how close Uryu is to you and that Shinigami, I'm sure he wouldn't mind that arrangement.

Isshin had never been a fast texter, but today proved the exception.

Ryuken, come to the shoten
We need to talk
Or tell me where you are
I can come to you

Each message came with its own annoying ding. Ryuken was forced to reply so it would stop.

Some of us actually have patients to attend to.

Ryuken looked at his text with a glare. That was stupid, but he couldn't take it back. Isshin knew he was at work now. If this day hadn't been so long, he wouldn't have slipped up like that, but not everything went as smoothly as he'd hoped. There was a knock, though it was on his window rather than the door. He hated today, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he hated any day he saw a Shinigami.

Isshin knocked again, rather than screaming like an idiot or breaking the window like an idiot. Ryuken turned to glare at him. Isshin didn't wear his sheepish grin. His face was grim; it drew Ryuken to the window. He opened it, then walked back to his seat. Isshin came in, leaving the window open despite the chill.

Ryuken pushed up his glasses, picked up a random piece of paper, and pretended to care about it. Isshin stepped over the papers on the floor and, much to Ryuken's chagrin, must have noticed the moldy sandwich.

"What do you want, Kurosaki?" Ryuken interrupted the silence. "I'm very busy, I don't have the time to deal with this."

"Ryuken," Isshin was a few feet in front of his desk. He was considering whether he should sit or stand or maybe even inch closer.

"And don't you have your own work cut out for you? I swear, it's almost as if you never have a single patient. They all choose to come here. But I can't blame them; the doctor at the Kurosaki Clinic is never in."

"Ryuken," Isshin took a step towards the desk, his head hung - irritating Ryuken more than anything.

"I said make it quick. The last thing I wanted today was to have a chat with a Shinigami." Isshin was silent. Ryuken continued, "You've finished your business with Soul Society, now that Aizen has been defeated. Or, I assume he's been since you are standing in front of me now. If he's not and you're here to ask for my assistance, you should already know your answer. Get out of my hospital, Kurosaki, I don't have the patience-"

Something dark sat behind Isshin's eyes. Horribly secretive eyes. He'd been keeping something from Ryuken, though for how long was anyone's guess. Ryuken let the silence hang in the air. It told Isshin that Ryuken knew of the secret. That he'd have to say it sooner or later.

Isshin opened his mouth, "Uryu's dead."

The world slowed with those two words. Ryuken looked at the paper is his hands, but he couldn't read the words. His fingers were tingling, flickering with the starts of reiatsu; he released the paper and let it slide back to his desk.

Two words.

His glasses were slipping down, but they seemed unattached to him; as if they were no longer his. His chest hurt like something terrible was trying to push its way out.

Two, little words.

A horrible heat flushed his body. His breath quickened, but he couldn't draw anything in.

Uryu's dead.

And the reason why he's dead… Well, the reasons father was right in front of him.

Ryuken was standing now, bow out, an arrow pointed at Isshin's head. He wanted to kill him, release some of the pain he inadvertently caused, but his shaking landed the arrow in the wall rather than the Shinigami.

Isshin hopped over the table and stood between Ryuken and his desk. He reached a hand towards the bow still pointed at his head. It was tempting; everything in Ryuken screamed to give in and shoot - or weep, but he'd spent decades mustering in such distasteful displays. He turned away from Isshin and fired his bow; the wall was gone within seconds.

"Ryuken!" He turned back to Isshin faster than the man could even understand and held an arrow less than an inch away from his neck. "Ryuken," Isshin's voice was shaky.

For all that he teased Ryuken, Isshin knew the Quincy could beat him in a fight. With Ryuken so upset, Isshin was sure he wouldn't stand a chance of even scratching the other. He had to be careful. "I can't even begin to understand what you're feeling. And I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. But it happened, Ryuken, and nothing can change that. He's gone and I'm going to help you as best I can. Can I help you?"

The arrow came closer still to his neck. Isshin could feel the reiatsu vibrating: frantic and unstable. Then it was gone along with Ryuken.

5.2

There was no body to be buried, he'd been told much, much later - when Isshin grew relentless and broke into his home. That fact had made him suspicious, but not irrational. Just like Katagiri, he wanted to believe it was all a mix-up or even a bad joke. But he was a rational, intelligent man. If Urahara said Uryu was dead, he knew he should believe it. There was evidence of his defeat; there had been too much blood for him to have not bled out and there were even some internal organs crucial to Uryu's survival buried in the rubble.

Isshin cleared his throat, forcing Ryuken to actually look at him. The man stood in front of him, his black suit pressed cleanly and his hair styled neat and respectfully.

"The service is going to start soon," Isshin informed him. "We should go in."

Ryuken took a drag of his cigarette, trying to calm his shaking hands and racing thoughts. Isshin looked concerned, but Ryuken pulled up a cold mask, retreating somewhere far, far away. He flicked his cigarette bud to the floor and crushed it under his heel.

It wasn't a traditional Quincy funeral; Uryu would lose his mind if he knew. Rather, it was a simple and nontraditional funeral - maybe even more accurately, a half-baked Shinigami funeral.

Ryuken had nothing to do with its creation, but Isshin's effects on the ceremony were clear, especially when considering the imposing picture of Uryu at the front of the room. In it, he sat by the river, face lit by a smile Ryuken hadn't seen since the boy's mother died. It had been taken by Orihime when Uryu wasn't looking, Isshin mumbled as they walked in. It was blurry and cut off the top of his head, but there weren't many pictures of Uryu and it was better than a yearbook photo.

Their seats were clearly in the front, but Ryuken dipped early into a seat closer to the back. Isshin followed his lead, choosing not to comment on the man's choice.

Considering Uryu's lack of friends known to Ryuken, there were a surprising lot of people in attendance.

His former classmates sat in a clump around his homeroom teacher, Ms. Ochi, in the left front corner of the seats. The Shinigami, who Ryuken hardly refrained from shooting upon entering, unabashedly took up a chunk of middle seats. Kisuke and his employees, who were actually managing to behave themselves, sat in a row behind the students, in the left-most corner. Kisuke wore a suit - he'd even removed his hat; though he frequently hid behind Tessai or covered his cheeks with his hands, afraid to show his face to so many people.

Despite having kept numerous tabs on Uryu, Ryuken was unsure of who most of the people in this room even were.

The funeral was pointlessly long, considering all that Uryu had time to accomplish. He was young; he wasn't even a legal adult. And still, they had the audacity to drag out the funeral as if he had done something that mattered. Ryuken clenched his jaw and attempted to look anywhere besides that stupid blown-up image of his son. He focused on the urn filled with fake ashes.

Isshin nudged his arm and nodded towards the front of the room, "you're supposed to go up now."

"Why would I go up?" Ryuken glared.

"The eulogy," Isshin was calm. "You're supposed to read it now."

"I don't have a eulogy. Why would I talk to a room of strangers about my dead son's lack of accomplishments? What would I even say? He dishonored the family name by fighting and dying alongside Shinigami?"

Isshin was visibly taken aback. He had been trying to communicate only support and sympathy for the man, but sometimes his frustration and confusion had a way of peeking through.

Isshin put a hand on the man's shoulder, "Ryuken, you can't feel that way."

Ryuken harshly jerked his arm away, "what if I do? Kurosaki, this is none of your business. If you don't like what I'm doing, you can leave."

"I wouldn't leave you here alone. This is too much for any fath-"

"Stay out of it!" Ryuken was standing, breathing hard. His bow was held firm in his hand, but it was pointed down at the floor and it seemed unlikely Ryuken even recognized he'd drawn it. "It's none of your business-I'm none of your business, you shitty Shinigami!"

The whole room was looking at him: Yumichika discreetly over his shoulder and Orihime flat out staring - her wide eyes rimmed red. He noticed the attention, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching.

Ryuken let go of the bow. Fine. If they wanted a speech, they'd get a speech. With heavy, unplanned steps, Ryuken made his way to the front of the room. All eyes were on him. His frown somehow deepened.

"Uryu was a foolish boy who went against my instructions countless times. He constantly endangered himself and clung to those who further endangered his well-being," pointedly, he glared at Orihime, Rukia, Kisuke, and Isshin.

"His grades were exceptional, but he had no intention of using them to attend a substantial college. He planned on becoming a full-time Quincy and part-time semester, or something utterly ridiculous along those lines."

"What else?" Ryuken continued. "He died in a futile battle he shouldn't have partaken in alongside a Shinigami who tried to kill him not long ago. What's more interesting is that a room full of the very people who prefer him dead sit before me now in, what, an attempt at mourning? I don't buy it." He was red in the face, shaking with utter rage.

"Shinigami," his expression sharpened as a thick layer of reiatsu fell heavy across the room, "if you're not gone within the next five seconds, I will force you out!"

Ryuken's bow was drawn, an arrow pointed at Ikkaku, for no reason other than the fact that he was the closest. Isshin stood and slowly walked towards him. Before he could reach out, Ryuken dismissed the bow and stomped out of the room. Isshin ran after him.

Ochi hit her leg hard enough to bruise, "students!"

She stood and quickly jogged to the front of the room, "Ishida-kun meant a lot to all of us, and that is why we're here. What you have to understand is... people experience grief in many different forms. When I heard the news, I cried. And then I upped my kickboxing classes from once a week to three times a day."

"The point is," she regrouped, "it doesn't matter how we grieve. Even if that grief is largely expressed in metaphors of battle and gods of death. Ishida will accept any kind of grief we express. Because he knows how much we care for him. I lost my most promising student…"

Ochi paused, took a look at the poster; at his bright face. She tried again, "I lost someone I admired and cared for. Someone important to me. And I'm not sure if all will ever be right again. But we have to keep going for him because, as tacky as it sounds, that's what he would have wanted." She nodded at her students, a few of which were crying.

They could survive this, she knew. And, though they wouldn't forget, the incredible sorrow would soon lessen.

Isshin re-entered as Ochi finished up. He took his old seat, Ryuken not beside him.

A few more people talked after her. Orihime wept unintelligibly until Rangiku helped her off-stage. Kisuke shared his opinions on Uryu's brilliant mind, excluding all details of their out-of-this-world discussions. Isshin even said some words on the light he brought to Ichigo's life and he mentioned all the times he'd saved his son's ass, again excluding otherworldly details.

"And Ichigo…" Isshin continued, "Ichigo will hate that he missed the funeral. When he wakes up, he's gonna hate himself; blame himself for what happened. But the-" Kisuke coughed, pulling Isshin's focus. He looked out at the students, the ones who didn't know of anything beyond this world. "The car crash… It wasn't anyone's fault. Sometimes bad things just happen."

And soon enough, the funeral was over.

5.3

The gravestone was up; it was a tall stone, with thick ledges going down to the ground. The cold stone was accented in bright offerings, given by his friends, classmates, and even the Shinigami he'd despised. But it was already snowing when they'd went outside, so Isshin didn't let them crowd the stone for too long. Eventually, only Isshin and Kisuke stood staring at the grave.

Kisuke broke the silence, "where did he go?"

Isshin sighed, "I don't know. I went after him, but he was already gone. He probably went home. I figured I shouldn't chase after him right now." He let out a joyless chuckle, "it's hard to leave him alone, though. I know how he has to feel. When I thought I lost Ichigo, my whole world stopped. But Ichigo's going to be ok - at least physically. Uryu," he looked at the grave with sad eyes, "is gone. And I can't seem to get a grip on Ryuken. I don't want him to spiral anymore than he already has."

Kisuke tipped his head to look at Isshin, "you're going to have Ichigo to comfort, so I wouldn't wreck yourself over Ryuken. He's had a terrible time, but he will only accept help after he's fully understood the significance of his loss. I'll monitor his reiatsu and make sure he doesn't drink himself to death, so relax. Ichigo should wake up in a couple of weeks, so take care of yourself. He'll need you."

"Ichigo won't be able to handle this," Isshin admitted. "Uryu, Chad, and Renji…" Isshin smiled at Uryu's grave, though his eyes remained the same, "let's visit Chad's grave before we leave."

5.4

By the time he left Mizuiro's, it was already dark. Keigo walked slowly, but not leisurely. What was left of the snow had turned to brown mush, soaking the bottoms of his slacks. Today had been long, though they all seemed that way lately.

The news of Chad broke something deep inside him. Chad was his friend and, despite his usual stoic silence, he was such a comforting presence to be around. Without his presence, Keigo found himself constantly checking over his own shoulder for threats. He'd taken the protection he'd felt from Chad for granted, he was now fully aware. He'd never taken their friendship for granted; he was glad he could say that.

But what really got him was how much he missed the nerdy bookworm who constantly berated his lack of intelligence and always seemed to be sewing something weird. He'd never wished ill-intentions on Uryu, but they'd never been anything other than distant classmates. Their only connecting factor was Ichigo, and Keigo was unsure as to whether Uryu even liked Ichigo or if he just tolerated him for the sake of their weird ghost-fighting activities.

Keigo sighed. It didn't really matter why he missed Uryu, he knew. Uryu was, in a strange way, important to him. And now he was gone; wasn't that reason enough?

He opened the front door quietly, careful not to wake his sister. Mizuho cared about him, but her care was loud and messy and that wasn't something he'd be able to handle. Now, he just wanted to lie down and rest for a long while.

It was dark in his room. He'd kept the curtains closed since the first time he saw a Hollow. And with the weakened defenses in Karakura, Keigo doubted he'd ever open the curtains again. Through the darkness, he found his way to his bed and pulled the covers high over his head. Eventually, sleep came.

Then he'd be forced awake by the loud stomping of his sister.

"Keigo? I've been calling you, why aren't you up?" His door flung open; he peaked out from the covers. The sun shone into the room despite the curtains. Mizuho stepped in, spatula in hand. Keigo wondered, for a brief second, if she planned to hit him. "Are you still in your suit? You shouldn't sleep in things like that, it'll wrinkle." He hummed in annoyance and rolled onto his other side, pulling the covers back up. She took another step into the room. "Keigo, you have to get up. You can't be late again."

It was Monday, he realized with a heavy sigh. He felt like death. His body was heavy and he feared he wouldn't be able to stand even if he wanted to.

"I'm not going today," Keigo mumbled from under the covers.

Mizuho hesitated in the doorframe. "Alright, I'll call in. But you have to go tomorrow, alright?"

He didn't respond.

5.5

Keigo finally started moving around the house by Thursday, but he hadn't gone outside and his sleeping schedule was erratic. Mizuiro had been by, but Mizuho just smiled and sent him away.

But it was now Sunday night and Mizuho had had enough. She'd tried being nice but now thought that a "be cruel to be kind" method may be best. Keigo was sitting on the couch, copying equations out of his textbook.

"Are you going to school tomorrow?" She prepared herself to lay down the law.

Keigo looked over his shoulder at Mizuho, "yeah, it's about time I go back. Ms. Ochi's probably pissed."

She sighed, abandoning the tough act, and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to him. "I don't think so. She'll probably understand why you didn't come in." He nodded and started writing again. "Those two kids…" Upon seeing him collapse a little into himself, she changed her trajectory. "So you're good now? Or at least better than before?"

"Yeah, I'm doing better." He gave her a genuine smile, "thanks for taking care of me."

Mizuho smiled back, "I'm your big sister, I'm supposed to take care of you, idiot." Her smile twisted a bit, "but, as your big sister, I expect you to repay my kindness with juice from the supermarket around the corner."

His jaw dropped, "you can't be serious. Mizuho, it's so late and I have so much homework to do! Can't you just go-"

"No excuses. It's your turn to take care of me. And I want juice and I don't want to go; Karakura is creepy at night."

He jumped off the couch, "exactly! Why do I have to go? It's so creepy outside!"

She gave him a threatening glare, "you're a fast runner. If something happens, just run back home." A shiver went down his spine, "and don't forget my juice."

Mizuho grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels. Keigo sighed. There was really no helping it. The longer he fought, the later it would get. He grabbed his coat and wallet, put on his sneakers, and headed out.

There had been a time when he loved exploring Karakura at night. He and Mizuiro, exploring back alleys as if they were parks, creating engravings in unseen walls… And sometimes just him, on his own, finding different routes to familiar destinations, or laying by the water long after the sun had set. That was before ghosts and monsters entered his vision. Now, he was too afraid to lounge around after dark; sometimes he was too afraid to go out during the day.

It was only a short walk, and his quick strides rushed him to the store in under ten minutes. After buying the juice, he left the safety of the store to once again rushed across the sidewalk.

The only light came from the streetlamp above him, adding to the b-rated horror movie atmosphere that surrounded him. If Mizuho would've asked Keigo to pick up her juice earlier in the day, or really any time the sun was still up, this wouldn't be such a big deal. But, no, she could never just ask him to go to the store at a normal time. She always had to ask in the dead of the night, when Karakura looked more like a crime scene than a town.

At least he was almost home, he thought. It was only a few more blocks, but it was dangerous; he knew it was more dangerous than meets the eye.

He stopped at the vision of a man standing only a few feet ahead of him, under the next street lamp. Had he always been there? Keigo thought he could've just missed him while lost in thought, but he wasn't sure of anything. Suddenly, the lamp above Keigo went out, leaving him in darkness. A chill went down his spine as his body locked up. The light the man was under flickered, then went out, causing Keigo's sweaty hands to lose hold of the juice he'd bought for his sister.

A needle was jabbed into his arm and everything went black.

Waking up was unpleasant and cold. He was laying on the floor of what he could only associate with an enormous gymnasium. Had he fallen asleep in PE? It was entirely possible, he'd done it a thousand times before, but that just didn't seem right. He shot up as a flood of memories passed through him.

He'd been abducted. This had to be some weird murder room; he'd been brought here to be killed. Frantically looking around the room, his eye caught on the shiny metal poles on a table ahead of him. With no hesitation, no suspicion of a trap, Keigo lurched forward and grabbed one.

"Asano," Keigo frantically turned, fear dilating his pupils.

While the voice sounded like Uryu, the man facing him only bore a slight resemblance to the prim, proper, straight-laced Uryu he'd known. He wasn't wearing the classic nerd glasses and his girly hair had been shaved short. He appeared to be so much less than Keigo remembered; he had thinned out, though how he got any thinner was an unanswerable question, and the dark bags under his eyes only served to make him appear paler - though, he might have actually gotten paler, too.

Despite all the changes, it was clear who the person in front of him was. Uryu had a presence you could feel from across a crowded room, though sometimes it felt like he wasn't there at all.

Keigo suddenly ran towards him, grabbing him in an oddly tight embrace. Almost comical tears appeared in his eyes, "shit, Ishida, I'm so glad to see you."